Twelve Years and Four Psychiatrists
by Sanguine Ink
Summary: Why Amy needed four psychiatrists....cameos from Doctors 1-10.


**So how awesome was The Eleventh Hour? I still love love LOVE Ten, but I definitely like Eleven. **

**This little story popped into my head the second I was done watching the episode. It took me awhile to actually get it written, but that's life for you. Darn reality for getting in the way of my fantasy life. Anyway, it had to be written.  
**

**Enjoy. =)  
**

* * *

Amelia Pond loved being outside, so twice a week her aunt let her walk by herself to the nearby Leadworth park to play with her Raggedy Doctor dolls. On this occasion, the sunlight streamed gloriously through the leaves on the eight-year-old as her dolls fought valiantly to protect Leadworth from Prisoner Zero.

"I found Prisoner Zero," said the Raggedy Doctor in Amelia's childish voice, "He's under the bed!"

Trying to sound as grown-up as possible, the Amelia doll pointed to a small dirt clump. "Let's throw dirt on it! Prisoner Zero _hates_ to get dirty!"

Her play was interrupted when a teenage girl and a stout man wearing an absurd amount of question marks ran at full-throttle towards her.

"Get down!" barked the teenage girl, snatching Amelia around the waist and covering the ginger girl with her body. The stout man crouched next to both of them, opened his umbrella as a shield, and covered his head.

"What are you – " Amelia started, but an enormous nearby explosion stunned her into silence.

After a moment had passed, the man straightened and snapped his umbrella shut. "Ace, how many times have I told you not to bring the Nitro-9?"

"And how many times have I ignored you?" whined Ace.

The man sighed. "Enough that by now I should know better. I suppose that'll keep the Shadeys at bay for a couple decades at least, anyway. Good work, Ace, back to the TARDIS."

"Thanks, Professor!" Ace said, brightening as they both strolled away.

The word niggled at Amelia's brain. Still clutching her Raggedy Doctor doll, she followed them to the police box sitting behind a rather large tree. Eyes wide as she recognized the Doctor's box, she tagged behind Ace.

"Excuse me!" her small voice rang out.

Ace stopped, though the man opened the door to the box and stepped inside. "Oh, sorry, I should have asked – are you alright? Wasn't that explosion brill?"

"I'm looking for someone," Amelia explained, holding up her Raggedy Doctor doll, "He looks just like this, and he has a blue box just like that. Do you know where he is?"

"Can't say I do. And no one's got a box like the Professor's, trust me."

"But – "

"Ace!" called the man inside the box.

"Sorry, I have to go," explained Ace. Something clinked ominously inside her backpack as she slung it over her shoulder. "Stay and watch if you like – it's the best part!"

The door closed, and Amelia could only watch as the blue box faded from existence.

* * *

Exactly one year later, Amelia found herself in the same park, still playing with her dolls by herself on a breezy spring day.

Amelia was just getting to the part where the Doctor saved the princess (a rough likeness of herself) by dropping the blue box on a blobby monster when a wonderfully familiar sound rang out. She dropped her dolls in delight as she recognized the giant blue box. The Doctor had come for her, for real this time!

A young man in a kilt and an older man in a fur coat emerged from the blue box.

"Is this really Scotland?" asked the younger man, gazing around in wonder.

"Of course it is, Jamie, Scotland in the future, just like I promised!" proclaimed the older man, peering around contemplating what he assumed were Scottish sights. Spotting the dumbstruck nine-year-old girl, he strolled towards her. "Excuse me, dear, but could you tell us what part of Scotland this is?"

"You're not in Scotland," answered Amelia in disappointment, unsure of what to make of this man. He seemed like an uncle she never had, the sort who would tease her and give her sweets. "You're in Leadworth."

"But that can't be right!" the old man said, flabbergasted. "That can't be right at all!"

"There are Scottish folk in Leadworth?" asked the kilted man curiously.

Amelia shook her head exasperatedly. "Sometimes. Look, that's the blue box from two years ago. Can you tell me where the Doctor is?"

"Aye, look right next to ye, he's right here," the Scottish man pointed to the older man.

Amelia scowled with a childish pout, unamused. "Don't be silly. The Doctor hasn't got a fur coat and he looks completely different!"

"Oh, dear me," said the older man in alarm, growing more flustered by the second. "I daresay I haven't met you yet. Butterfingers. Come along, Jamie, quickly, before the timelines go all funny!"

He pulled the kilted man inside, and left Amelia to gawk as the blue box once again dissolved into reality.

* * *

Eleven-year-old Amelia was hiding in the school lavatory eating her lunch when the long-awaited sound once again reverberated in her ears.

Her stall door flew open in time for her to see the blue police box materializing just over by the sinks. Snatching the fish fingers and custard she'd packed in her lunch that day, she dashed joyfully towards the police box crying, "Doctor!"

A curly blonde head poked out, followed by the rest of its body. Amelia froze in her tracks, still holding out the fish fingers and custard, and gawked at the man's coat. Even her _aunt_ had better taste than that.

"A lavatory? A _lavatory?!_" He sputtered before spying Amelia. "A _girl's_ lavatory?!"

"Where have we landed?" came an American woman's voice from somewhere within the blue box.

"Nowhere, Peri!" the man called back into the box. "Extremely dangerous, don't come out, it will _kill_ you straight away!" The colorful man started to slam the door.

"Wait!" called Amelia, breath hitched in anticipation. "I have a present for the Doctor. Is he in there?"

"Oh, yes," he said eagerly. "What did you get me – er, him?"

"Fish fingers and custard," beamed Amelia, holding out the fish fingers and custard again. "They're his favorite."

The colorful man's nose wrinkled in disgust. "Fish fingers and custard?! _Fish fingers and custard?!_ Disgusting! I'd _never_ – "

"Who are you talking to you, Doctor?" yelled the American woman's voice again.

"Young…Silurian. Don't come out, Peri, the atmosphere is beyond _deadly_ for humans!" The door slammed shut.

Amelia sorrowfully clutched the box of fish fingers and custard to her chest as the blue box _vworped_ away, leaving her alone and very confused in the school lavatory once more.

* * *

It was a year later on a school trip to Gloucester when she saw it next: the blue box, standing tall and proud right across the street from her school group.

Twelve-year-old Amy abandoned her classmates and dashed across the street despite the commanding shrieks of her teacher. Barely avoiding being crushed by a passing truck, she reached the door and slammed her fist against the wood repeatedly as she called, "Doctor! Doctor!"

"Pardon me," said a mild-mannered voice from behind her. "Is there a reason why you're knocking on my police box?"

Amy turned to see a man dressed in full cricket gear. "It isn't _your_ police box. It's the Doctor's."

"I know, which makes it mine," the cricket man said. He sighed happily. "Just about to leave for the Gloucester Cricket Festival. Whoever invented the sport, let me tell you, was a man of unmatched intelligence! Simply unmatched! I should go meet him!" He beamed. "Say, would you like to come with me to watch the game? My companions declined – they just don't appreciate the game quite as much, I'm afraid."

Amy, thoroughly irritated with her failure to find her imaginary friend, spoke through gritted teeth. "Where – is – the – Doctor?"

"I told you, _I'm_ – oh! Goodness me, I think I've crossed my own timeline! Not again, I just finished preventing a Belgium-sized disaster – I really don't want to go through that again, so I really must be going, sorry, my _deepest_ apologies!"

"But where is he?" Amy demanded again. The cricket man brushed past her, stepped into the police box, and shut the door behind him.

It wasn't until after a session with her second psychiatrist that Amy realized that her hallucination had been wearing celery.

* * *

Rory carefully placed another domino on the table. "Your turn."

Amy pondered the row of dominoes before her on Rory's dining room table. One false move and the entire row would collapse, leaving Amy responsible for doing the project she and Rory were supposed to be working on by herself.

A knock came at the door, and Rory scooted his chair back to answer it.

"Your turn," Amy said triumphantly as she placed the domino, "I'll get the door."

She opened the door and gawked at the man standing on the Williams' doorstep. If the stranger's utter confusion had not been expressed on his face, his Victorian clothes would certainly have given it away.

"Pardon me," he said, scratching his head, which was covered in long wavy hair, "But have you seen a big, blue police box around lately? I can't seem to remember where I put it…."

Amy's cheeks blossomed red in embarrassment. "Is this a joke? Is that it, you're making fun of me?"

The man's eyes widened comically, "Oh, no! Certainly not! I really am looking for a blue police box. Have you seen it then?"

"Who's at the door?" asked Rory as he came to the door. His nose wrinkled as he took in the stranger's antiquated appearance.

"Have _you_ seen a police box around?" the stranger asked hopefully.

Rory's grip tightened on the front door. "Look, she doesn't need crackpots like you making fun of her, okay? Just _leave her alone_."

He slammed the door so hard that dominoes on the table all fell down.

Amy's hand lightly brushed Rory's. "Thanks," she mumbled.

"No problem." Rory blushed. "Suppose I lost since the dominoes all fell down…"

"We'll just work on the project together," Amy suggested.

The rest of the afternoon was filled with awkward smiles and quadratic equations and no more talk of police boxes.

* * *

The sounds of Christmas shopping bustled around Amy as she wandered through the Gloucester Mall. Carrying her many purchases and strolling over to the bookstore she'd agreed to meet Rory at, Amy almost didn't notice the blue box materializing in front of the electronics store.

Almost.

Without another thought, Amy dropped her presents and sprinted to the box. Her fist hovered next to the blue-painted wood, poised to knock, when the door opened and a brunette woman wearing what could only be described as a leather bikini stepped out.

"Doctor," the woman called over her shoulder as she painfully snatched a clump of Amy's hair, eliciting a yelp from the fifteen-year-old. "Look at this one's hair! Where are we?"

"21st century, Earth," said a curly-haired man wearing a ridiculously large scarf, "Thought I'd introduce you to this lovely little device called an iPod – _no_, Leela, let the nice 21st century human go!"

Leela released Amy's hair with disinterest, and Amy rubbed her sore head with a scowl.

"I…Pod?" Leela said slowly.

The scarfed man nodded. "Yes, it plays music. Sounds." He pulled his ears out to emphasize the last word, then turned to Amy. "Terribly sorry, she's a bit forward. Would you care for a jelly baby?" He held out a small bag.

Ignoring the colored sweets, Amy jabbed a finger at the TARDIS. "Never mind that! _That's_ the police box. The one I've been seeing. So who are you? What are you doing in the Gloucester Mall at Christmas? And most importantly, WHERE'S THE DOCTOR?!"

Lips turned up in a wide grin, the scarfed man extended a hand. "That would be me! The definite article, you might say."

Amy didn't take it. "You most certainly are _not_."

"You don't believe me?" The curly-haired man frowned in disappointment.

Amy threw her arms up in exasperation. "That's it, I'm getting another psychiatrist. How many blue boxes are there running around anyway?"

She stomped away, muttering something about She-Woman and hallucinations.

* * *

At the ripe old age of seventeen, Amy was almost convinced that the hallucinations she'd had of blue boxes throughout her life were the products of a lonely childhood and an overactive imagination.

She changed her mind immediately when she saw the blue box again as she strolled by the same park she'd frequented when she was eight and nine.

It isn't real, she silently chanted to herself, It isn't real, it isn't real….

But she couldn't smother her excitement, and rushed to the door, banging on it frantically. "Are you there? Are you really, really in there?" There was no answer. Growling in frustration, Amy snatched a fallen branch off the ground and swung it with all her might into the police box's door.

She felt a tap on her shoulder, and turned around to see a bemused skinny man with wild hair next to an infuriated ginger woman.

"Do you mind?!" demanded the ginger woman, hands on her hips. "What're you doing, trying to break down the door of a police box?"

"Don't I know you?" asked the man, brow wrinkling in confusion. "I've seen you before, somewhere…."

The ginger woman's face softened as she too concentrated on Amy's face. Her eyes widened. "Evelina? How did you manage to get here from Pompeii? In this time? In some place that is," she glared at the man next to her, "Definitely _not_ Chiswick?"

"I'll get you to Chiswick, Donna, just got a bit off course, slight miscalculation…" The man rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Besides, we solved the little," he lowered his voice, "_Infestation_, didn't we?" He waggled his eyebrows at Amy. "Word of advice: don't wander off into the woods unless you're equipped with a banana. Lots of bananas. Turns out, Chula mites are allergic! Imagine that, allergic to a banana!"

Amy ignored him, resuming her banging on the TARDIS door with the tree branch. It didn't even leave a scratch on the blue paint.

"Oi! Do you mind? She's very sensitive about this sort of thing!" protested the skinny man.

Amy whirled around to face the couple. "Look, do you have a crowbar or something?" she demanded. "I _have_ to get into this police box." Her eyes widened as a horrible thought occurred to her. "You _can_ see it too, right?"

"Course we can!" scoffed the skinny man. "Question is, why can you? The perception filter should've – "

The ginger woman snapped her fingers in front of the skinny man's face. "Focus, Doctor! Evelina, here in 21st century, _not _in ancient Rome! Care to explain? Fix it, maybe?"

"Not Evelina," said Amy crossly. "Amy Pond."

"Descendent, maybe," mused the skinny man. "Good to know old Evelina got on with her life after all." His eyes widened. "Hold on, aren't you the girl with the ice cream cone?"

"No," said Amy exasperatedly, "I haven't got an ice cream cone!"

"Ah, wibbly-wobbly time-y wime-y. Must not have happened yet. Explains a lot, actually. Anyway, if you'll move from the door," he put his hands on Amy's shoulders and scooted her away from the TARDIS doors, "Must be going! Places to see, things to do, worlds to save, and all that. See you soon!" He waved and extracted his TARDIS key from his pocket.

And found himself pinned to the TARDIS doors by an angry Scottish teenager.

"What have you done to the Doctor?" Amy demanded. "You stole his box! A whole bunch of you!"

"I _am_ the Doctor," came a muffled reply from the Doctor's mashed lips. "And this _is_ my box!"

"Get off him!" Donna joined in the fray, "Get _off_!"

Donna shoved Amy off the Doctor and hustled him through the doors, which shut securely behind them.

Recovering quickly, Amy banged her fists uselessly on the door until it vanished.

She had her first appointment with her fourth psychiatrist the next morning. The bruise where Donna had shoved her was still there.

* * *

Only a week later, the sun blazed with summer heat, and Amy decided to get an ice cream cone from a nearby ice cream stand. She licked the cold, delicious chocolate dripping onto her hand as she left the line.

She froze mid-lick. Behind her in line was the same man with a pinstripe suit and crazy hair, grinning goofily at the blonde next to him.

"Honestly, Rose, the ice cream on Chulling-6 is so much better – "

"Yeah?" said Rose playfully, "Well I want Earth ice cream. From Earth."

"But the Chulls have got so many more flavors! Best ice cream in five galaxies! No boring chocolate or vanilla, they've got Martian Rocky Road, and Triple Corvivian Chunk, and Starlight Swirl – "

"You again!" interrupted Amy, glaring at both of them. The couple broke from their banter to stare at Amy.

"Do I know you?" asked the man, confused. "Always meeting people, me. And not necessarily in the right order – "

Amy smashed her ice cream cone into the man's chest, grinding it into his pinstriped suit.

"What? What?!_ WHAT?!"_ squealed the man.

Amy spun on her heel and stomped off, leaving her poor victim and Rose in absolute befuddlement.

* * *

Amy stared blankly at her maths homework, willing the problems to solve themselves. A knock on the front door shook her from her reverie.

"Amelia!" called her aunt from upstairs, "Get the door!"

Amy obligingly opened the door to greet the visitor, an old man dressed in a – frilled coat?!

As soon as the door was open, he shouldered past her into the house. "I need your television!"

"Hey, you can't come in here!" she exclaimed.

"Doctor," a young brunette woman called after him, "You could take the time to _ask_ for the television." She extended a hand. "Sarah Jane Smith."

"Amy Pond," Amy returned. "Now what on Earth is he doing with my TV?"

The frilled man yanked her TV cord carelessly from the wall and lugged it back out the door. "Come on Sarah! We just need to reverse the polarity of the satellite signal – "

"I'm terribly sorry," Sarah Jane explained, "But he'll return it, I'm sure…."

Amy peeked out the door where, sure enough, a blue police box sat as if teasing her.

She stared at the blue box longingly. "He won't return it. He doesn't return, not ever."

Sarah Jane looked taken aback. Her mouth opened as if to say something, but a cry of "Sarah!!" from the blue box yanked her back into the police box, which promptly ebbed from view with a haunting grind.

* * *

Amy lounged in her booth at the Leadworth Diner, picking at her chips. She'd been a kissogram for two and a half weeks now, but business was slow all over town. Even the diner's business was sluggish – Amy was the only patron, and the only person working that day, the owner, had gone to the back room for a lunch break. Amy twirled a chip in her finger absent-mindedly. She was utterly bored.

Her boredom was shattered when two men burst through the door, panting as if they had run several miles.

"Doesn't this town have _anything_ useful?" complained the first man in a Northern accent. He gazed around the diner frantically, eyes finally settling on the decrepit jukebox in the corner. "Vintage! Fantastic!" he cried, extracting a small silver tube from his leather jacket pocket and hurriedly dismantling the jukebox.

Amy raised an eyebrow, but had succumbed to such a state of lethargy that she decided not to spend the energy required to say something.

The other man brightened as soon as he noticed Amy. He smoothly slid into the seat opposite her and leaned forward on his elbows, head resting in his hands. Amy had seen the kind of smile the man was wearing before.

"Captain Jack Harkness," the man introduced himself. "Wanna – ?"

"I'm a kissogram," Amy told him before he could finish, blinking to resist the urge to snog him senseless. "A kiss'll cost you five quid."

Jack patted down his pockets. "Hey, Doc, you got any spare change?"

'Doc,' who was building something amidst the scattered remnants of the jukebox, glared at his friend for a moment before resuming his frenzied work. "I have to build a device to remote-summon the TARDIS in less than five minutes so that I can save Rose before the psychevore consumes her mind, and you're asking me if I have spare change so you can snog a perfect stranger?!"

Jack shrugged. "You know what you're doing. You'll be done in time. Rose will be okay."

"Did you say 'TARDIS?'" Amy said fearfully. Not _another_ hallucination.

"You know what a TARDIS is?" Jack cocked an eyebrow. "Well, aren't you interesting. You know, _I_ don't charge for kisses if you're in the mood for – "

"It's done!" declared the Northern man, activating the device. A breeze whooshed through Amy's hair as an all-too-familiar sound filled the diner….

And there was the blue box again. Amy held her breath for a moment, willing the Doctor to emerge from it and take her with him like he'd promised all those years ago. But of course, her Raggedy Doctor was nowhere to be seen.

"I'm coming, Rose!" cried the Northerner, abandoning the jukebox pieces and racing inside the blue box.

Jack kissed Amy's hand. "That one's free. Hope to see you soon." He winked, and dashed inside the box after the Northerner.

The owner of the diner returned just as the TARDIS' grinding dissipated.

Amy's euphoria at being kissed by Jack Harkness – even if it was only on the hand – vanished when the diner owner gave her a bill for the ruined jukebox.

* * *

Amy had seen the blue box so many times that its latest appearance did not even faze her. When she heard its tell-tale grinding in front of her house, she trudged downstairs to see if the Doctor – _her _Doctor – had finally come.

An old geezer, a young girl, and a couple dressed like her grandparents in old photographs stood next to the impossible blue box, gazing around in interest.

"….This _is _the closest we've landed to our time so far, Ian, maybe we should just stay here."

"Perhaps you're right, Barbara. Although I don't believe this is really 2009. Where are the flying cars?"

"Hmmph," said the old man. "Flying cars? You expected flying cars? Where's the practicality in that, hmm?" He noticed Amy and jabbed his walking stick to point at her. "You there, child! Could you be so kind as to tell us our location?"

"_You're _not him either," Amy huffed, and stomped back towards her house without a second thought.

The young girl looked after her retreating back, baffled. "Grandfather, who _was_ that?"

"I haven't the foggiest, Susan. Some simple-minded human girl. So Chesterfield, have you decided to stay, or are you up for another try?"

"Another try, I suppose. The attitudes of children haven't improved much in 50 years, have they?"

"So rude!" agreed Barbara as Amy slammed her door shut.

* * *

Amy stared at the man she'd handcuffed to the radiator. Just as he was in her imagination – exactly the same, the same old raggedy suit, a small custard stain still on his lapel. He could not possibly be here, be _real_.

"Twelve years and four psychiatrists."

"Four?"

"I kept biting them."

"Why?"

"They said you weren't real."


End file.
